


Color of the Business

by Fox_the_Reaper



Series: Portraiture [2]
Category: Criminal Minds, White Collar
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humor, Slashy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:32:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox_the_Reaper/pseuds/Fox_the_Reaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter remembers why it's always a bad idea to indulge his curiosity around Neal. Sequel to Paint Me a Portrait.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Color of the Business

Color of the Business

Peter glanced at Neal as he roughed out a design on his canvas using a thin, light layer of paint and shook his head in amazement.

“So, you’re really a working man now, huh?” he asked, amused. “Actual, legitimate commissions and everything.”

Neal shrugged, applying another layer of paint. He didn’t reply, but Peter didn’t expect him to. Aside from having his concentration devoted to the canvas and easel in front of him, his mouth was currently holding extra paintbrushes.

“What, embarrassed? You shouldn’t be. This is good.” Peter leaned back from his place on Neal’s couch, listening to the familiar sounds of the game coming from the TV. He knew Neal liked silence when he worked, but he couldn’t help it. Laying out a few files for his own perusal, he considered his partner. Normally they’d be looking through the cases together over a beer (or, in Neal’s case, wine), but Peter wasn’t about to interrupt.  
He didn’t want to mess this up for the conman. Or, hopefully, soon-to-be former conman.

Neal was still too preoccupied to answer, so Peter went back to dividing his attention between the game and his files. There wasn’t anything that really needed the White Collar unit’s full attention, and Peter felt himself growing steadily more restless. El and Neal were usually great for amusement while he was looking through files, but El was on a business trip and Neal… was busy.

Peter had to choke back an incredulous laugh at that. Any other time, a busy Neal that wasn’t working on a case was a Neal that definitely needed to be occupied in more productive and legal manners than he actually was. Now he was being productive (in a safe, legal way, too), and Peter didn’t really know what to do with himself.

He sighed, dropping his stack onto the coffee table. “This Garcia has been calling you an awful lot lately,” he tried. It was true – in the past four months she’d requested three paintings to go with the one Neal had painted for Agent Prentiss.

Neal made a noise that sounded vaguely like agreement. Encouraged, Peter continued, “What has she got you painting that’s got you so interested?”

The ex-con blinked, finally looking away from the canvas. Absently pulling the brushes from his mouth he replied, “You probably don’t want to know.” He promptly turned back to his work, dipping brush into paint and moving it across the stretched fabric.

Well, now Peter definitely wanted to know. It was practically a reflex by now. Anytime Neal said Peter didn’t want to know something generally meant that he was supposed to look in the other direction and was therefore doing something less than legal. Which meant he should know, to stop it if nothing else. Of course, it couldn’t possibly be like that now, with the ex-con in plain sight and painting a legitimate commission. But hell, he was curious.

“She doesn’t have you painting forgeries, does she?” he asked, not actually serious. Cracking open a beer, he propped his feet up on the coffee table.

Catching Neal’s dirty look, he shrugged. Even if he didn’t believe it, the ex-con couldn’t really blame him for asking. And since Neal always ignored him about feet up on the conference table, he couldn’t complain about that either.

“Well?” he prompted, propping his bottle on a coaster. Neal would get bitchy about it if he didn’t. Something about several thousand dollar coffee tables and beer stains.

Neal hesitated before gesturing at his wardrobe. “There’s a finished one that I haven’t sent out yet over there,” he said. “If you really want to know.” Frowning, he added, “And don’t touch it – it’s not dry yet.” Oil paint could take weeks to dry. Months depending on the thickness of the paint.

The touch of mischievousness in his voice should have tipped Peter off, but he was bored and wanted something to think about other than work. So he got up and cautiously turned around the easel sitting in front of the wardrobe (if Neal was bad about the coffee table, he did not want to know what would happen if he knocked down a painting).

The agent froze at the sight of a well-defined black man pinning a smaller, slighter figure to a bed draped in velvet. His pale skin contrasted sharply with both, hair fanning out behind him as he met the darker man in a passionate kiss.

Slowly, feeling his face redden to an alarming degree, Peter turned around.

“You… you’re painting porn? Gay porn?” he squawked. Twisting his head around to glance at the painting again, he confirmed his own statement. But the look also brought up another very pertinent question. “Are those two of the agents that were here during the gallery murders?” He felt faint. The absolute last people Neal should piss off were the BAU.

Neal shrugged, unperturbed. “It’s not exactly porn,” he hedged. “And Penelope works with those two. She said they’d be fine with it, so I don’t see what the problem is.”

“Penelope?” Peter asked in disbelief. He was on first name basis with one of their agents?

“Yeah. And Emily asked for the first one,” he added, dropping his brush into a can of water. Picking up another, he swirled together a few colors on his palette. “She’s on their team too, so really…”

Peter looked at the completed painting and back to Neal. This was what, his fifth painting like this?

He sank back into the couch and picked up the files, suddenly remembering exactly why it was always a bad idea to indulge his curiosity around Neal Caffrey.

God, he didn’t know who was more twisted. The BAU, now that he knew of their perverted tendencies, or Neal, for bringing them to life.

Shaking his head, he decided mundane case files were definitely the best he could hope for with people like Neal around.


End file.
